


Fragile

by Osidiano



Series: Down With This Ship [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Ignores Movies, Integrating Souls, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Osidiano/pseuds/Osidiano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He strained his ears for a sound of life, for the ragged wheezing of a wounded man or the gentle inhalations of someone slumbering. His eyes scanned the bloodied curtain for more movement, the scrabbling of fingers on tiles, perhaps, or the last violent death throws of a cornered animal. He wanted something, anything, to assure him that there would be blood in the sink tomorrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragile

**Ship:** Fragileshipping (Yami no Yuugi/Ryou Bakura)  
**Day/Theme:** 31Aug10/The aesthetic of lostness  


There was blood in the sink.

This was not a new or inherently concerning fact. Far more concerning was the fact that it was perfectly normal for there to be blood in the sink, for smeared red hand prints to be left on the white ceramic and streaked across the bathroom mirror. The ancient spirit reached out with practiced numbness, turning the facet on and watching as the water turned pink and swirled down towards the drain. He looked at his reflection in the mirror carefully, tilting his head to get an unmarred view of his profile as he surveyed the slight indentation a crease in the pillow had left on his host's cheek. Wetting his hands next, he splashed the water up to his face and rubbed the sleep grime from his eyes.

There was always blood in the sink these days. Or on the counter. Or the bedroom doorknob. The back wall of the closet had a rough patch from where he had tried to scrub a stain off but ended up taking the first layer of plaster with it late last week. It was always somewhere. He could smell it when he came home after working at the game store. It was always freshly spilt when he woke up in the mornings, still wet when he brushed his fingertips over the smears.

When had this become normal? The pharaoh glared down at the sink, as though it was the cause and source of the blood. When had 'these days' started being separate from all those other days they had lived through? Of course, he knew the answer to those riddles. Pinpointing the catalyst, that great and significant event which heralded this change, was a simple task, and always on his mind. When the Millennial Items were lost beneath the rubble of that fallen temple after his duel against his other self, these days — this long, drawn out nightmare — had begun. For a moment, they had all celebrated their victory over the endless cycle of reincarnation. For a moment, they had believed that they had won, had bested fate and destiny and reveled in all their victor's glory.

But it was only a matter of days before they realized that he had not been released from the Puzzle to rest in the afterlife, but rather, the two halves of his soul had finally been reunited. He looked back to his reflection. His host looked tired. They had not slept well since finding that it was becoming harder and harder for the other Yuugi — all the goodness his soul had ever possessed — to surface. Each day he saw less and less of the bright-eyed, optimistic boy that he had been reincarnated as in this time. The man in the reflection looked jaded and too old to have ever been that particular Yuugi.

One day, this would not be his host's body. It seemed odd to think that way, but in his heart, the pharaoh knew it to be true. He was consuming the other soul, taking Yuugi in and making them one. Isis had warned that such a thing might happen, that his darkness might drown out the true Yuugi's light. She had said that it might happen the other way, as well; that there was a chance that the Yuugi of this time would overcome the King of Games and rise as the dominant half of the soul they shared.

He cursed his strength more in that moment than he had ever before in all his incarnations combined.

Behind him, the shower curtain shifted.

The pharaoh shook himself from his bitter reverie, wiping his hand over his face one last time before turning slowly towards the shower. For a moment, there was silence between them, marred only by the light 'drip-drip-drip' from the faucet and the rustle of plastic as the shower curtain settled back into place. He strained his ears for a sound of life, for the ragged wheezing of a wounded man or the gentle inhalations of someone slumbering. His eyes scanned the bloodied curtain for more movement, the scrabbling of fingers on tiles, perhaps, or the last violent death throws of a cornered animal. He wanted something, anything, to assure him that there would be blood in the sink tomorrow.

For a moment, the pharaoh's expression softened, those same old worry lines knitting his brow as he took cautious steps towards where his companion was hiding. Sometimes, he thought that these moments were the worst part, somehow more horrifying to know that he was responsible for this other soul's painful reintegration. It would have been easier to wallow in his self-hatred and anguish if he had been the only one damned to this tragedy. His voice was strained when he spoke to the curtain:

''Ryou, are you feeling better?''

The curtain did not answer.


End file.
